I don’t like my kids


Just kidding.

Sort of.

I always love them. Always love them. I would die for them.

I would listen to Baby Shark for them or watch this nonsense. Or Masha and the Bear which is on Netflix now (and dubbed into English), but was only on YouTube back when Will Jr was three or four years old and he would sit and watch this show as all the characters spoke Russian. Will doesn’t know Russian. He still watched it, over and over.

I’m getting off on a tangent which my wife hates with all her being. I’m doing it again.

Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t like my kids. Sometimes. Not all the time, just some of the time.

Like tonight when my wife went off to run to the store and meet up with a friend. No worries, I’ve been with the kids by myself plenty of times and had no problems.

I’m not saying they were little monsters, but, I mean, I told Eric he had to stop running and he growled at me like he was in the new Godzilla movie and he was about to battle Mothra or some shit.

As I attempt to sternly tell Eric “you don’t growl at Daddy!” I was interrupted by Nora snatching Will Jr’s blanket and running away with it. So Eric is growling at me like a damn rabid dog, Nora is running out of the living room cackling and Will Jr is running top speed after her.

So I tell Nora to stop running, didn’t yell, barely raised my voice.

Tears.

What did I do to deserve this? For the rest of my life she is going to do this to me and I will never not (double negative and I don’t give a fuck) feel bad. Sometimes I give her a sharp look when she is saying or doing something she shouldn’t and I get, “w-why are you yelling at me?”

Jesus Christ. What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Will continued to run and Nora was stopped, standing still in the kitchen. I was yelling at Will to stop running and Nora to stop crying all while Eric provided soothing background growls.

I did stop Will from smashing into Nora and kicking my night into that extra special territory we rarely see.

Long story short, Will got his blanket back, Nora stopped crying and put her pj’s on herself (shocking) and I had to forcibly get Eric into his pj’s. Don’t underestimate the sheer strength of a small child that really doesn’t want to do something.

I’m gonna go finish my drink now.

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So about that Gillette ad


My wife is out of town for work and she sent the link along for the new Gillette ad.

I watched it and I immediately understood what it was going for and I loved it. I loved what it stood for and the message it was trying to convey.

After watching it I just assumed everyone would get it and apparently I am naïve.

I guess I should have known better in this day and age.

I mean, how could anyone be offended by a commercial, much less a commercial that’s basically just saying, “Don’t be a dick.”

The message of the ad is all good. ALL good. It’s not attacking anyone, it’s showing that to be a man, a real man, that it’s okay to not get into a fight to show someone how tough you are, or to cat call or marginalize women.

How is it wrong to support an ad that says to be a real man one should just be a decent human being? HOW?

How do people have an issue with this?

You know why when I watched the ad I wasn’t offended or defensive about it? Because I’m not a dick (mostly, no one is perfect). I was shocked at how defensive some were about this. Maybe I shouldn’t have been. Maybe I should have expected it.

To the people that have an issue with this ad – you do realize that there’s no set parameters to being a man, right?

Outside of “being a good human being”, it’s pretty wide open.

I pray my sons are not demeaning or dismissive to women, or that they cat call or sexualize women at every turn. I pray they don’t think getting into a fight actually proves toughness, or that crying is a bad thing.

My oldest son is nearly 9-years-old and I have explained to him many times that he should never be afraid to cry because he is sad, or be afraid to tell a friend of his that is bullying someone that it’s not okay.

The backlash to this ad is mindboggling to me. All it does is force me to realize how behind the curve we are. And by “we”, I mean “men” (generally speaking).

And if you just read that or this blog and are offended? Good. That means you’re the problem. Now you can take a moment or two of self reflection and question what it is to really, and I mean REALLY, be a man.

I cry when I am sad, I do my best to teach my sons to be respectful of women, and I am a man. Are you?